


soup bowls and bathroom lights

by broikawa



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish Loves Ronan Lynch, Domestic Boyfriends, Flirting, Idiots in Love, M/M, Showers, Sick Ronan Lynch, Sickfic, showering together, taking care of each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 13:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18575326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broikawa/pseuds/broikawa
Summary: sometimes you need your boyfriend to make you soup and get you in the showeror; ronan is on his deathbed and adam does something about it





	soup bowls and bathroom lights

**Author's Note:**

> they're so in love it's gross
> 
> enjoy !!!!

Ronan hated getting sick.

For one, it was an excuse to not do things. If he wanted to do nothing, he didn’t need an excuse; this was just a way out. Secondly, he couldn’t do anything, even if he wanted to. He couldn’t go out and drive because a cough or a sneeze could mean the end of him, and he didn’t want his tombstone to say ‘Ronan Lynch, death by car accident and also a cold’.

One thing he  _ did _ like was getting taken care of, and he never wanted to be taken care of by anyone other than Adam ever again.

In most ways, no one could compare to Adam, as dumb as it sounded to even himself. It was, however, true, and Ronan had had no idea before getting sick that someone could have more skill at making soup than somebody else. It was a simple luxury, but a luxury nonetheless, to have your boyfriend make you soup, and it almost made Ronan want to get sick more often.

“I’m not letting that happen,” Adam had said from the kitchen when he’d told him.

Ronan, who had been on the couch, responded, “I thought you loved taking care of me.”

“It doesn’t mean I want you to be carrying a virus all the time.”

He replied with a profanity and a guarantee that he wasn’t going to make Adam soup when he caught whatever he had.

Now, he was lying still in bed, head pounding, throat burning, sinuses blocked.

Adam, who had tried to go to bed without touching him in fear of also getting a cold, was holding Ronan as if he were a teddy bear, his face pressed against his shoulder. He stirred.

“Why are you still awake?” he mumbled into Ronan, eyes still closed.

“How’d you know I’m awake?” he asked, his voice very much laced with illness.

Adam replied simply. “You’re you.”

“You’re  _ gross _ ,” he teased, feeling a smile pressed into his skin. “Come here.”

Moving closer, Adam moved his arm to wrap around his waist tighter, adjusting to make it snug. “I love that you say  _ I’m _ gross,” he said, “when  _ you’re _ the one with mucus coming out of your face.”

“Shut up,” he chuckled. The laugh turned into a cough, hard and raspy. It sounded like it would hurt.

Adam placed a kiss on his neck, his skin warmer than an afternoon in July. Ronan heard him exhale.

“Do you want to have a shower?” he suggested, eyes open this time, wide and wondering, but in desperate need of rest.

“It’s midnight.”

“And?” He sat up, looking down at Ronan still nestled under the blanket. “It’ll clear up your sinuses. You’ll feel better.”

He said nothing.

“Just get up, you look like shit,” Adam said.

“I feel like shit,” Ronan replied.

“Come on,” he said, moving the covers and getting out of bed. “I’m turning the shower on.” Ronan watched him walk out of the room, his legs groggy but full of urgency. He heard the familiar rush of water from the bathroom as Adam did what he said he was doing, and the sound was enough to get him to sit up.

Adam peeked around the door. “Hurry up,” he said, “I don’t want to waste water.”

Finally struggling his way out of bed and into the bathroom, Ronan found two neatly folded towels on the counter and Adam’s clothes discarded on the floor. He did the same with his – though there wasn’t much clothing in the first place – letting them lay wherever it is that he dropped them. The closer he got to the bathtub, the more he realized he needed it. Pulling back the curtain, he saw Adam facing the shower head, water flowing through his hair and down his body. He turned around as he stepped in the tub.

Ronan spoke. “I hope you didn’t suggest this because you wanted to –”

“Ronan Lynch,” he warned, “I know exactly how you’re going to end that sentence. Do  _ not _ .”

He laughed and stepped closer towards him. His hands found his shoulders and pulled him in close. There was something about having Adam as he was that made Ronan never want to let go. They stood, hugging, swaying like the sound of the water was music.

“How are you feeling?” Adam asked, his face in Ronan’s shoulder once again.

Ronan sighed, replying, “Congested.”

They went back to listening to the water hitting the curtain, the walls, the tub, the sound of their personal rainstorm soothing them both. The yellow from the bathroom light made Ronan feel the good kind of tired; the soft, cozy kind of tired you felt after a long but successful day; the warm kind of tired you felt when you’re completely at ease. Adam often made him feel like this, too. Oh, how vulnerable Adam Parrish made him feel.

This is what being in love felt like.

“Can we sit down?” Ronan asked, his voice much smaller than it normally was, and Adam agreed without a word. They found their spots, Ronan at one end of the tub and Adam at the other, legs touching legs and a hand on the other’s ankle.

“This is nice,” Adam commented. His eyes were tired and he blinked slowly.

Ronan hummed in response. “Will you let me get sick more often if we get to do this?”

“You don’t need to be sick to take a shower, you know,” he said. A smile found its way to his mouth.

“Still.”

They sat in the tub until the hot water ran out, talking and joking and flirting and enjoying each second spent talking and joking and flirting. Ronan, nor Adam, had felt more at ease than when they were in the tub, water falling around them. When Adam stood up, Ronan complained about getting out until the water ran cold, which got him out with no hesitation.

They went back to the bedroom afterwards, where Ronan helped Adam dry his hair, during which he called him both ‘cute’ and ‘a loser’ simultaneously.

“You wouldn’t let me do this for you if I could?” Adam teased him.

“You bet your fucking ass I would,” he replied.

Crawling back under the covers, they got back into their places they had been before the shower; Ronan on his back and Adam clutched to his side.

“Did that help?” Adam asked, nose pressed to his neck.

“I think so.” He changed the subject. “Will you give me just  _ one _ kiss, now?” He pouted his lips in an attempt to persuade him.

He kissed under his ear. “No.”

“Fuck you,” he said affectionately.

He snorted. “Maybe when you’re feeling better.”

“If I had enough energy,” he said, “I’d push you off the bed.”

“I’m sure you would.”

Perhaps Ronan didn’t hate getting sick as much as he thought.

**Author's Note:**

> highkey ooc but i don't care it's soft
> 
> tumblr: etherealparrish


End file.
